


stealing our future

by Areiton



Series: Tony Stark Bingo [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, College Student Peter Parker, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Protective Peter Parker, Sex, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:06:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Peter knew when he left, Tony would struggle. It’s why he didn’t want to leave. He fought the idea, hard, and lost--May and Tony and Rhodey and Ned all demanding he not settle, all begging him to think about his future.He didn’t point out his future was standing front of him with an exasperated expression and a three piece suit.Tony Stark Bingo: R3 Warm and Fuzzy Feelings





	stealing our future

He expects the call. Has expected it since before he left.

Rhodey doesn’t disappoint. “Can you come? He needs you.”

He looks at his books, his busy schedule and lies, “Of course. I didn't have anything planned.”

 

~*~

 

Peter knew when he left, Tony would struggle. It’s why he didn’t _want_ to leave. He fought the idea, hard, and lost--May and Tony and Rhodey and Ned all demanding he not settle, all begging him to think about his future.

He didn’t point out his future was standing front of him with an exasperated expression and a three piece suit.

So he left, went to MIT and lost himself in school.

And Tony lost himself in loneliness.

 

~*~

 

They try to make it work, is the thing.

Long phone calls, endless texts, movie date nights. Tony flies down every weekend at first, and then every other, as Peter’s workload increases and then it’s just once a month.

It’s hard.

They knew it’d be hard, and Tony tries not to let Peter see how much he’s struggling. Because he wants this for the kid, wants him to be happy, wants him to have every opportunity.

But there’s this too--Tony lost Peter once, on an alien planet in a cloud of dust and he got Peter back, got the whole universe back--but sometimes, when he wakes up at night alone in his big bed and empty penthouse--he forgets.

Sometimes, he just wants his boy, close and in his arms, and Peter feels, still, gone, out of reach, a million miles away.

 

~*~

 

He steps out of the elevator and Peter smiles. Because this--this is home. This is everything he misses when he’s away, everything he longs for when he doesn’t say on the phone, _I want to come home._

College is too important, if not to him, to everyone around him, so he keeps that desire tucked away, trapped in his throat. But it’s burning there now, and burning in his eyes and Tony is crouched beside one of the cars, hasn’t noticed him.

The bots do, DUM-E and Butterfingers rolling up to him and chirping excitedly. DUM-E’s arm bumps him, clamps on his shirt and tugs at him, until it drags a laugh from him and that--that drags Tony’s head up, up so wide startled eyes find his, and Peter smiles, soft and small and helpless.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he says, unaccountably shy.

Tony is up and crossing the room in seconds, dragging Peter into his arms, and Peter sighs, melts into it, melts into _him_.

“You’re _here,”_ Tony says, his voice rough and hoarse, and Peter closes his eyes and holds him tighter.

 

~*~

 

He takes Tony to his ridiculous too large bathroom, strips him careful, hands gentle and warm, relearning his body as he skims over tan, scarred skin. It’s gentle, soothing, and when Tony’s grip turns hard and needy, Peter shushes him.

“Rest,” he murmurs between light, butterfly kisses. “There’s time later.”

They fall into bed, still wet from the shower, skin butter soft and warm, and Peter sleeps with his head on Tony’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

 

~*~

 

The weekend is quiet.

Peter wakes Tony with a slow, lazy blowjob, mouthing at his skin until he’s restless and stirring, before he takes Tony’s cock in his mouth and hums, contentedly, pleased to finally be where he feels like he belongs. It’s agonizingly slow, savoring the weight of Tony in his mouth, the heaviness on his tongue, the bitter burst of precome.

It’s heavenly, and he comes, spills against the expensive sheet, rutting against Tony’s leg, just from Tony’s fingers twisting in his hair and the pleasure in his voice when he groans Peter’s name.

 

~*~

 

They go for a walk, brave the chill of New York November to wander through Central Park, fingers laced and aimless. Peter’s nose is red and his lips are chapped and shiny and Tony’s gaze is fixed on him, avid and hungry and besotted.

Later, they stop for coffee and Peter talks Tony into hot chocolate and licks the taste from his lips in the alley near the coffeeshop while snow drifts down around them, and it feels hushed and quiet, hidden and perfect, and he doesn’t want to go.

 

~*~

 

They argue--brief, a argument punctuated by grins and kisses and Tony’s exasperation--over dinner, an argument that ends in Peter dancing through the kitchen in Tony’s sweatshirt and nothing else, humming as he cooks. Tony watches, his eyes soft and warm, and sips his wine, and wishes that the weekend never had to end.

 

~*~

 

They don’t talk about why Peter is here, or why Rhodey and Pepper vanished after a week of nagging Tony to take a break.

They don’t talk about Peter’s classes or looming finals or the next semester or May’s plans for the holiday.

They don’t talk about the Avengers and the world that still needs heroes, despite everything they’ve both given.

They don’t talk about anything beyond the four walls that encase them and the moment they’re in.

 

~*~

 

Later, when Tony is sleepy and Peter is snoring softly against his chest, he carries the boy to his room, spreads him out against his sheets and watches him sleep.

He loves Peter.

He’s known that for a long time. But moments like this--stolen weekends and windows of time that feel like a dream and a gift--they remind him.

He loves Peter and nothing has ever felt as right as watching Peter sleeping next to him.

 

~*~

 

They spend the morning in bed. Tony fucks Peter, works him open slowly, painstakingly slow, until Peter is red faced and cursing, writhing against the sheets, butter soft around his fingers, and begging for his cock. Then he slides in, slow and steady and Peter’s voice catches in his throat, half sob, half sigh, all pleasure.

Usually, when they fuck, it’s loud, goading, all of Spiderman’s taunts turned dirty and lewed and perfect.

But today--today it’s quiet, Peter gasping near silent below him, his eyes squeezed shut, and fingers twisted with Tony’s. His little moans are punched out, high and needy and precious for their rarity and Tony doesn’t realize Peter is crying, silent sobs, until he’s coming, spilling deep in Peter as Peter tightens around him, gasps and comes, wet and messy between them.

Tony kisses his tears and Peter shakes, his silence shattering, and sobs against his chest.

 

~*~

 

“I don’t like it,” Peter whispers, and Tony’s grip on him tightens. “I miss you.”

 

~*~

 

He goes back.

Of course he goes back. There are deadlines and projects and finals and a ridiculous apartment that Tony bought for him, and--

He goes back.

He hates it, and he can see the same mirrored in Tony’s eyes, before he leaves, and his lips tighten.

 

~*~

 

The semester ends in a rush of papers and finals and no sleep, and Peter--Peter revels in it. Because if it’s over, he can go home. He does. He finishes his classes, and packs his suitcase and goes to the Tower, where he knows Tony will be waiting.

He’s there, surrounded by his bots and Christmas trees and Peter smiles and steps into his arms, and kisses him.

 

~*~

 

After--

After they fall into bed and Tony fucks him while he clings, his grip too tight and impossible to relinquish--they pad into the dining room and Peter cooks, or tries to, while Tony clings to him, pressed warm and mostly naked against his back, his fingers hooked in Peter’s boxers under the oversized sweatshirt he stole.

It’s comfortable and comforting and so painfully domestic it makes his heart squeeze.

He’s nervous, and he thinks--he shouldn’t be. He knows.

But the arguments from summer are still fresh in his mind, so he bites down his words and feeds them, and they curl on the couch, his fuzzy socked feet wrapped around Tony’s bare legs, listening to the steady sound of Tony’s heartbeat under his ear.

“I’m not going back,” he says, as Tony caresses his hair.

Tony is still, and Peter’s heart beats too fast, too loud in his chest. “You don’t have to argue with me--it’s already done. I transferred to NYU and I start in January.”

Tony stares at him and nerves beat in his chest but he cups Tony's face, holds him like he's precious.

“You don't have to--you can have _anything,_ baby.”

Peter smiles. “I know. And what I want is this. You.  Not MIT and stolen weekends and missing you. Just this. Us together and the bots and the team sometimes, and cooking for you, waking up with you. Dragging you out of the workshop and cuddling next to you. I want _you,_ Tony.”

Tony's hands tremble but his smile is blinding and relieved as he drags Peter into a messy kiss that tastes like forever.

 


End file.
